The Double
by legbamel
Summary: A team within the team works through the double agent on the SR-2 to make sure TIM gets what's coming to him. The first twenty-some chapters are posted on my blog-see profile for link-and these will disappear as I move the rest.
1. Surprise, Surprise, Surprise

I fell into bed and slept like I'd been shot, still fully clothed. Four solid hours later I blearily opened my eyes, feeling like I'd had a very long and refreshing blink. I hadn't moved a muscle in all that time and various parts of my anatomy failed to wake with my brain. I hobbled my way across the room, pins and needles jabbing me, and settled into the chair at my desk, glancing at the photo that Councilor Anderson had given me. Kaidan leaned forward and looked awfully grim, like he was rushing the person who took the picture. I wondered what had been going on when it was taken. I brushed my fingers over his fiercely-drawn brow, mentally wishing him a good morning, and turned to my terminal, still active from the night before.

Leaping in with both feet, regardless of how numb one of them remained, I went straight for the message from TIM. Instead containing a dossier it asked me to give him a call in the holo chamber. _Wow_, I thought. _That was easy_. I read through the rest of them quickly, smiling at a couple of thank you notes and a bit of spam from a merchant with whom I'd dealt on the Citadel back when we'd still had the SR-1. It looked like I really was alive again if I showed up on such mailing lists once more. I'd almost missed offers of help to increase the size of my imaginary penis.

Feeling rested and cheered by the coming test of the Alliance trace program, I showered and pulled on clean clothes before I secured the breakfast I so deeply desired. I followed the smell of waffles, syrup, and coffee to the mess and mugged Gardner for a huge helping of all three. He surrendered willingly, tossing a couple of sausage-like things on the side, explaining that they had come from the Asari so he didn't really know what was in them but that they tasted like little slices of breakfast heaven. I contained my drool long enough to get to the table and surreptitiously mopped my chin. It turned out he was right, they were fantastic. The crew around me appeared to enjoy them as much as I did. I forked the whole mess into my mouth in record speed, washing bites down with glorious, life-giving coffee. I cleaned up my dishes and ordered the mess sergeant to stock as many of those sausages as he could get in the next three hours. As a reward he filled my mug to take up to the CIC.

I stepped out of the elevator and noted that Kelly wasn't yet on duty. With a sigh of relief I stepped around the corner and into the briefing room. She'd probably be lying in wait by the time I got out of here but at least she hadn't ruined my good mood yet. I'd need every shred of it to keep my cool with TIM, knowing how our conversations normally went.

I scanned in, coffee in hand, and greeted TIM, he with cigarette in hand as ever, yet another sign of his arrogance. "I've got some news for you," he said in his usual self-satisfied way. His eyes glowed, their eerie blue reminding me of the robotic portions of the husks we'd so often fought. Even if I had wanted to trust the man those cyborg eyes prevented it. "We've discovered a disabled Collector ship. Apparently it attacked a turian fleet. They managed to render it inoperative, at great cost to themselves, but not to destroy it. While the Turians organize a research party—or ships with more firepower—you're going to sneak in and recover whatever data EDI can. With luck it will tell us how the ship navigates the Omega 4 relay so that we can follow them home."

"Turians." I couldn't hide the disbelief in my voice. Hell, I didn't even try. This was bullshit of the first order. "And they managed to do with a few ships what all of the laser turrets on Horizon couldn't accomplish?" 

"At this point you know as much as I do," he replied smoothly. "But we need access to that ship. This may be our only opportunity. Don't waste it arguing with me."

He had a point, there. No matter what trap he was setting for us we weren't likely to find Collector ships just laying about the galaxy awaiting our scans and infiltration. I was going in but I was going to take his favorite operative with me. If I got captured, so would she. That'd teach him to play games with me, the jerk. "Fine," I said, "feed the coordinates to EDI." I turned and left, not waiting to see his smug reaction. I'd only make a mess of the nice carpet in the briefing room if I threw my coffee at his image and I hated to demonstrate just how much he got under my skin. I could tell from the color of the cooling star image behind him, roiling awfully blue today, just how good he was feeling. Let him. When we got what we needed maybe I could unload on him and get that thing blazing again.

As I'd suspected, Kelly stood beside the galaxy map when I emerged. She rushed over to tell me that she was glad I'd finally checked my messages. My mood must have shown on my face because she trailed off and eyed my mug warily. I glanced down to see that my knuckles showed white where I held it in a death grip. I thanked her frostily before she could ask what was wrong and continued to the bridge. "I wanted to make sure EDI gave you the coordinates for our next stop," I said to Joker, giving him significant eye contact to make sure he knew caught my real meaning.

He nodded. "Yep, I'll make sure they're where they need to be," he reassured me. I wanted Big Al to know where we'd be in case the worst happened. I doubted I'd get another resurrection unless Miranda had added some cat to me while she was doing other things but maybe they could stage a rescue operation or something equally unlikely. At least they could check out TIM's fishy story about the Turians in the area.

"Make sure everyone's back on board and get ready to leave dock," I said. "According to TIM this one's got a time limit." Joker nodded again and started messing with the huge panel of controls before him. I verified with Gardner that the sausages and a full load of fresh bread and coffee had been delivered then told Joker that he could head out whenever he was ready.

When we were underway I popped into the lab to talk to Mordin. He twitched more than usual as we discussed his research and possible upgrades. It got so bad that he was almost incoherent, his sentences getting shorter and choppier. I finally stopped him and asked what was wrong. Though he seemed embarrassed to tell me, staring at the floor as he spoke, he explained that his old research assistant had been kidnapped by a krogan clan and held prisoner on Tuchanka. To my surprise, he openly admitted that the two had worked on the krogan genophage project. It had been a horrific idea meant to solve the problem of the prolific and warlike species and the one which Grunt had been bred to solve. Were I one of its architects I wouldn't go around bragging about it.

In truth, he gave a spirited defense of the program and the necessity of limiting the population to protect the rest of the galaxy. I was half-convinced that Krogans had needed time to adjust to their newly-advanced status when Mordin dropped another bombshell: the snatched Salarian had assisted not in the original project but in the renewal of the genophage when evolution started working around it. I stopped him there and told him that I'd have to think about things for a while. The idea that he'd done this to an entire species _twice_ made me see red. I wanted to tell him we'd go to Tuchanka to offer him for trade in place of his kidnapped cohort but I knew that we couldn't spare him.

Honestly, where the hell did TIM find the crazy people he suggested I bring on this supposed suicide mission? Maybe they were the only ones he thought would be willing to come, the ones who had the most to make up for or were the most vulnerable to persuasion. It wasn't bad enough that half the crew wanted to sleep with me but I had a mass murderer figuring out how to keep the killers that fought with me alive. I went to the ladies' room, turned off EDI's record and broadcast, and banged my head against a wall for a few minutes. I heard the door shush open and turned smartly, striding out with a crisp nod at the crew member whose name escaped me at that moment. I realized that I'd left my coffee in the lab but I wasn't about to go get it. Gardner had stocked several oversized mugs for us caffeine addicts on board. I fetched another and went to tell Jack that we were training with Miranda on a broken Collector ship that afternoon.

If only I'd remembered to tell her about my brilliant covert operations idea while we were on Illium. I had to invite her into a nearby closet to explain why before she warped my head from my shoulders. Happily there was no one in the bowels of the Engineering area to see us and she was a bit smaller than Joker. It was still highly uncomfortable, though. "We need to do this." I talked as fast as I could. "The Cheerleader is weaker than you are but more disciplined and both of you know more than I do. We need to feed her ego, make her feel more comfortable with us, so that we can get her talking about Twinkles and the puppy. How are we supposed to take them out if we can't even find them?" Jack snarled a little but had to admit I had a point. "And no 'accidentally' slamming her or tossing her off a walkway," I continued. "We're pretending to suck up. Nothing more than a glancing shot."

"Fine," Jack snapped, "but when this is over I get to unload on her."

"Deal." I hoped something changed by that point or that Miranda did something to really piss me off before I had to keep my end of this bargain. Jack and I left the tiny cubicle and replaced our comm units on our ears. EDI had to know that something was afoot with all four of us going to radio silence together or in combination but she hadn't asked me. Joker certainly would have mentioned suspicious questions in the shower the night before. I wondered if the AI were passing the information to Cerberus without letting us know or if she simply accepted that as standard behavior for some of the crew. I'd have to get Joker to pry around its edges and see what he could uncover. Would or could EDI lie to us? It had certainly told me when it was restrained from answering questions by its programming but had it been set up to flat-out falsify some responses? I decided that was one more thing I'd have to worry about later.

I went back to the crew deck to let Miranda know that she could be head Cheerleader in the afternoon. After last night I thought about putting on my armor on before I knocked on her door but she was relatively gracious. Having been disgustingly responsible and social all morning, I went back to my quarters for a break before tackling the afternoon.


	2. Fool Me Once, Shame on You

The afternoon went as badly as I'd suspected it would. We popped out of FTL travel and cruised to the coordinates we'd received. Garrus and I stood behind Joker, staring as the ship came into view. All of us recognized its design. Indeed it looked identical to the one that had been abducting colonists on Horizon which had been, coincidentally, the very same one that had killed me two and a half years earlier. I heard Garrus growl beside me and I put a hand on his shoulder in agreement. No matter how comparatively well things had turned out so far we still had a score to settle with the bastards. They'd wrecked our first team, the one that hadn't included thieves and liars and turncoats. They'd killed some of my closest friends and destroyed the only home some of us had had. If I could find a way to blow up that pile of crap I was going to do it today, no matter what TIM wanted.

Miranda and Jack met me at the shuttle and we were dropped off on an outcropping of sorts that I presumed served as a cargo bay. We worked our way in, found piles of rotting corpses that made all three of us gag in our helmets, and angrily considered the thousands upon thousands of pods stacked throughout the corridors and lining the walls of vast chambers. As we meandered about Miranda kept up a steady monologue about focusing power, the importance of practice, and how she'd been grown in a vat to be perfect. I tried to turn the subject to Cerberus and TIM but she wouldn't deviate far from topic. I wondered if her father had actually pursued her when she'd run away or if he was as tired of her self-obsessed babblings as I was and she'd just assumed he had.

Perhaps our most interesting, if ultimately pointless, discovery lay half-dissected on a table. EDI probed the connected computers and found that the Collector corpse that lay opened and stinking shared DNA with only one species on record, the Protheans that the galaxy had once thought the builders of the mass relays and the Citadel itself. We'd been told by their own computers that they'd been wiped out by the Reapers thousands of years earlier and had left what records we could access as a warning. It seemed that reports of their demise had been greatly exaggerated and that the Collectors were their genetically-engineered descendants. Nearby there lay a few weapons of a type we'd never seen. I snatched them for Mordin and Jacob to study, calling dibs on the lovely sniper rifle that lay among them, should it prove useful.

We reached the heart of the ship and got EDI hooked up to the central computer. Suddenly, things activated themselves and Collectors swooped in on our exposed position. "Oh, no," I said drily, "I never expected this." Jack followed up in a falsetto, "Whatever shall we do?" We piled the loot we'd collected by the terminal and began our training session in earnest. Miranda called out instructions and suggestions as we all blasted away with biotics and weapons alike. In the heat of battle I often forgot about using my powers so she kept reminding me, although one phrase involved blue balls and cracked Jack and me up so badly that neither of us could hit anything for a bit. Happily Miranda focused so much on telling us how to fight that she often got in our way and didn't notice the many instances in which Jack and I aimed awfully close to her head. She kept her biotic barrier in place and we elbowed each other when one of us managed to nick it enough to ripple blue down one side or the other.

All in all, we had an awful lot of fun for having been ambushed. We slaughtered the first wave of Collectors, made sure EDI had nabbed all of the information she could from the system, grabbed the new guns, and got the hell out of there. I discovered that biotics were easier to use on the run than a pistol, requiring more will than aim. None of us lacked the desire to hit the bastards as they were trying to kill us. We got swarmed by husks as we rounded one corner, undoubtedly abducted colonists the Collectors had turned into the Reapers' special brand of cyborg zombie, and got in some good practice at close-quarters applications in hand-to-hand combat.

Jack and I yet again appalled Miranda, this time by fighting dirty. We'd noticed in earlier encounters that the lower abdomen was a vulnerable spot for the creatures and we exploited it with gusto. The Cheerleader had to get over her prissiness if she was going to survive these encounters. One of them got hold of her hair and just about hauled her off to her doom before we took pity and killed him—in the messiest way possible, just to teach her a lesson. Her head was coated with goo and it dripped down her now-dingy catsuit in a most entertaining way. Someday she would learn not to wear white in combat. She might as well have a blinking sign over her head and a target on her not-inconsiderable ass.

Finally, we ran back across the docking area and vaulted into the hovering shuttle. Joker bailed the SR-2 out of there the second we touched down in the docking bay. He didn't even take time to calculate a trajectory as the cruiser behind us spun up both its engines and its massive weapons. He just told EDI to damn the torpedoes and activate the FTL drive, so to speak, and it did. It must have been calculating like mad as we rushed from the system before the Collectors could activate their own drive core and follow. We dropped back into regular space somewhere, panting from the adrenaline rush, miraculously having avoided death and dismemberment. By then I'd gotten to the bridge.

EDI threw in a bonus surprise for us. "Analysis reveals that the supposed turian signal was a fake." It sounded confused, a first for any ship's computer in my experience. "The algorithms I used to determine its origins were written by The Illusive Man based on Collector technology that Cerberus has acquired. He knew when he sent you that the message came from the ship itself." Joker and I looked at each other. EDI sounded almost angry, perhaps at the danger in which the ship and thus its AI had been placed. Could it be that it was learning what an almighty ass TIM really was? It would be a powerful ally. I intended to have Joker work on its new perceptions of its creators at every opportunity. But for the moment I had bigger fish to fry.

I told Joker to set up the holo chamber. I was going to go rip TIM a new orifice or two over this stunt. "You bet, Commander," he agreed, narrowing his eyes at me. "Go have a _nice_, _long _talk with him." Apparently my stamping out of our earlier conversation hadn't given the trace program enough time to work. I nodded my understanding. I intended to make my point at length anyway and if TIM wanted to defend himself and let me attack him all over again that was fine with me. The resentment and frustration I'd been swallowing for weeks surged, fury nearly overwhelming my common sense. If anyone was going to put my crew in mortal danger it was going to be me. I'd expected giant bugs on the ship, I'd presumed they hadn't all magically disappeared when the ship shut down no matter what the cause, but a bald-faced lie I could not let…well, lie.

I started yelling before I'd even finished scanning in, calling TIM a few choice names until I was certain he could hear me. Once I could see him clearly, I started my actual objections. "You knew full well that the ship was in no way harmed and could choose to reactivate and destroy my crew and my ship at any moment. You lied to me and endangered the very people you claim are the only ones working to stop the Collectors. What the bloody hell kind of game are you playing?"

The moron had the temerity to look amused by my outburst. The star projected behind him glowed a cool and sparkling blue that almost matched his robo-eyes. "I knew you could handle it, Shepard." He tried to feed me more platitudes about how amazing I was and how I could do anything. I waited for my opening, knowing he had to use the excuse, and seethed while he heaped on the crap. Then he made his mistake. "I had to let you believe the ship was disabled. I couldn't predict how they would react if you tipped your hand that you knew it was a trap."

"What, the Collectors are psychic now? Screw you, Timmy-boy." The star purpled considerably at that, much to my satisfaction. "Would you like to know the one thing that would have changed about that entire mission if I'd known the ship was playing 'possum? We'd have plotted a goddamned course instead of making a blind jump at faster-than-light speed, you ass. We weren't stupid enough to assume that the ship was beyond repair or abandoned, nor would any half-assed military crew go traipsing into that situation without due care. They expected us to go slow and be prepared, just as we were." I settled my weight back on my hips and crossed my arms. "As far as I can tell, you just tried to kill me, my entire crew, and the ship you spent so many billions to create for us. That puts you on a very short list of living people, right behind the Collectors themselves. Right now, keeping you on that list suits my purposes. But if you ever pull a stunt like this again I will take this ship to the Alliance and you can try to stop the Collectors while we hunt you down _with_ the SR-2."

TIM's personal mood star pulsed a bright orange-yellow, whether in alarm or anger I didn't care. He blustered some and I just stood there. I'd said my piece and my ultimatum wasn't up for negotiation. Finally I cut him off, "I have never trusted you or your motives and up to now that hasn't been a problem. Learn your lesson from this. Stop treating me like a very dangerous child, and we can both reach our goal here. Your power games have obstructed your view of that aim. I won't put myself or my crew in needless danger." I reached over and shut off the holographic projector. I hoped the Alliance had gotten what they needed from this exchange because I couldn't do that again anytime soon without going about three steps too far. I stood in the briefing room and gathered my wits for a moment then headed back to the bridge to find out where the hell we'd landed.


	3. Everybody Wants Some

Once I'd discussed our location and itinerary with Joker and EDI, I secured the weapons we'd found and took them to Jacob. His eyes lit up, much as mine had, and he descended upon them with a glee I hadn't seen from him before. He promised to check them out and have Mordin verify that no booby traps, infections, contaminants, or other dangers lurked. From the "ooh, toys" look on his face I knew he'd try them out in the shooting range the second he believed they wouldn't blow up in his hands. I hoped they turned out to be as deadly as they looked.

In the meantime, I thought I'd get in some quality looming time at the galaxy map. Having exerted my autonomy with TIM had purged the worst of my anger but I was still feeling mean. I stepped onto the platform and mentally reached out, plucking suns from their clusters and popping them into my mouth like berries. _Take that, Horsehead Nebula!_ I cried in my mind. Just as I was starting to relax I felt Kelly's hand tugging the hem of my shirt. Still in my pretend world, I backhanded her with what biotic power I commanded, causing her to fly into the elevator and be deposited in some sub-floor below Engineering from which she could not escape. One deep breath later I found it in me to smile. "Yes, Yeoman?"

"You have urgent new messages at your private terminal." She stared, wide-eyed and almost whispered her usual message. _What the hell?_ I thought, then realized that the three or four crew closest were also casting glances of the corners of their eyes and probably had been while I brooded over the bright blue image. I suspected that EDI or Joker had recorded my recent chat with TIM and shared it with the crew. _Good. Let them see that TIM doesn't run this ship or me__._ At least it would save me having to meet with the team and explain that we'd been screwed for our own good, in typical Cerberus fashion.

"Thank you. I'll check them in my quarters," I replied. I suited words to action. Let her report to TIM how calm and polite I'd been. After I'd hung up on him twice in one day an evaluation that I was keeping my cool would make the point that I was angry with him, not just pissy in general. I popped through my door and settled in to check my mail. Tucked between the others I found a note from Admiral Hackett asking me to set a memorial at the crash site of my old ship on Alchera and find some evidence of the crew whose bodies had never been recovered. I pouted a little over being put on grave detail, but then I brightened. _Wait_, I thought, _another trip to a space hub where I might happen to run into someone from my "past"_. I all but skipped out to the elevator and wished things were all on one level so I could traipse all of the way to the bridge. I'd trooped and tromped and even trammeled but I'd never traipsed before. I was rather curious to see how it felt. The brief bit I did across the CIC to the bridge felt pretty carefree but I wasn't sure I was doing it right.

"Oh, Joker," I sang as I stepped up behind him. "I need you to add a stop on the Citadel to the itinerary." I told him about Hackett's request. Rather than pleased he sounded angry. "Let me get this straight: they want us to travel halfway across the galaxy to pick up this monument and all of the way back to the Omega Nebula to drop it off for them? What is this, a cargo ship?" he scoffed. "Let 'em hire a mover."

"Ah, but Citadel equals shore leave." He cocked his head, considering that. "Give it a medium priority and slot the stop in when we'd have been closest anyway."

"Aye, aye," he answered sourly.

As so often happens on a small ship, word of our new destination spread like wildfire. By the time I got back to Kelly she'd already heard from Garrus with a request that I see him posthaste. I thought it odd that he'd go through "official" channels like that. When I arrived at the main battery where he was again fiddling with the Normandy's weapons he explained his request. It seemed he had an old friend-turned-enemy on whom he wished to wreak vengeance and a tip had led him to the Citadel. I promised we'd kick the guy's ass and left only to bump into Thane. The man rarely emerged from his berth and it seemed every time he did I ran right into him. This time he had come looking for me, at least. As we walked back to the life support equipment room he told me that he needed to visit the Citadel as well, preferably sooner than later. It seemed he had a son who had fallen in with a bad crowd. I gave him the usual "yes, dear" response I gave everyone who asked for a favor, the one that sounds supportive and caring but commits me to nothing.

While I was there I remembered to ask him of what he was dying. He explained that the Hanar had saved the Drell from extinction on their desert home world by bringing them to the ocean world from which the floating pink jellyfish hailed. Of course, the Hanar then transformed the survivors into slaves by reminding them of it constantly and taking some of their children and training them from the age of six to do distasteful tasks, as Thane had been trained to kill, or ones physically impossible for the squishy overlords. As a bonus factor limiting the power and population of Drell, living in the dank environment created the untreatable and incurable Kepral's Syndrome which slowly filled their lungs with fluid and killed them. Thane seemed affronted when I put it that way to him but he was blind to the manipulation for which he'd been brought up to be grateful.

With this full plate before me, I asked Joker to bump the priority of our Citadel trip up to high. We swung through a few systems surrounding the mass relays along the way, picking up resources and making the occasional quick investigation of a crashed ship or abandoned facility. One had to keep up the flow of credits or one would quickly discover the ports on the fuel depots closed, after all.


	4. Doing the Right Thing

As Joker once again settled us into dock at the Citadel, I reviewed our credit status and how much we'd been paid for our recent efforts. It looked like I could pick up a few more upgrades while on-station and perhaps get myself a few fish for that enormous empty tank in my cabin. A quick check with Joker confirmed that he hadn't received any information on pending package delivery but I thought I might pick up a little something for Kaidan in my explorations, should something suitable present itself. I could always stash it in my quarters for later.

The ever-helpful and seemingly ever-present Captain Bailey greeted us after we'd passed through security, such as it was. Thane noted that measures instituted since his last visit still left a number of holes through which a resourceful assassin such as himself could slip and Garrus and I nodded ruefully. We'd gotten through the first time on the strength of my and his father's names rather than actually not being threats to the safety of the folks inside. Indeed, the three of us waltzed through with our weapons prominently displayed simply because I vouched for Thane. I stuffed my derision for the moment, though. We needed information from Bailey and it wouldn't do to antagonize him.

He cheerfully supplied both a contact for locating the only Drell to have been spotted on the Citadel recently and directions to the warehouse where the people-smuggling low-life Fade was rumored to do most of his business. At this rate we'd be done by lunch, Thane's kid and Garrus's ex-pal Sidonis safely corralled. Then again having lived my life for some time I knew that complications loomed just out of sight. Did they ever.

Step one involved locating the contact at whose name Thane had narrowed his eyes. I can't imagine Mouse to be an uncommon nickname for children but I suppose most adults would be reluctant to use it so it was possible that Thane's reminiscences of giving him that name were of the same guy. It sounded like they'd been close. Garrus and I exchanged looks at this sudden soft side of our badass assassin but we declined to pass any judgment. Each of us had enough of our own emotional weak spots. Once we found Mouse it turned out to be the same person. He'd been carrying the idolization torch for Thane all along and greeted him as though they'd last met a week before. Despite the hero-worship, only some threatening talk and a promise of protection pried the name of the guy putting out the hit from the scruffy man's lips. Happily we were in a less-affluent ward where threats and organized crime were not unknown so our activities drew little attention.

We'd been smart enough to lock our sniper rifles in the cab, at least. We returned and strapped them on for our second stop in the warehouse district. The Fade at Bailey's coordinates turned out to be a tiny Volus with two hulking krogan bodyguards. Garrus stepped up to question him and Thane and I each took out a bodyguard when the little guy proved reluctant to answer. Shockingly enough he turned out not to be the guy who'd stashed our target. He was quick enough after our little display to drop the name of the man for whom he was fronting. It was that sleazy ex-security drunk Harkin, the one who'd propositioned me most rudely just before I'd become a Spectre and upon whom I'd longed to have an excuse to exact vengeance. Garrus already hated the guy so we were primed for action.

A quick trip to the factory district brought us to a storage area filled with crates and all sorts of robotic inconveniences. The three of us pegged one mech after another with head shots before they could get in range to shoot back. I loved an all-sniper team—less ammo and fewer injuries, more fun some friendly competition. Harkin cursed over a loudspeaker and tried various tactics to get us killed, including a couple of the massive YMIR bots whose shields forced us to burn a lot of ammunition and biotic power to destroy. I blessed the bonus missions from the Alliance that had paid for the extra shots and thought that providing fake identities must be more lucrative than I'd thought if he could afford to waste such resources.

Naturally we caught up to the idiot and backed him into a corner. I let Garrus shoot him a little with that trusty pistol, which made us both feel better, before we forced him to arrange a meeting with Sidonis. Garrus knocked him over the head and we left him, unconscious and bleeding, where Citadel Security would find him after we "anonymously" reported it to Captain Bailey. While we had him on the phone, we dropped the name that Mouse had given us and asked him to arrange a meeting.

After some hemming and hawing Bailey agreed to have the man hauled in for questioning but admitted to indulging in a little back-room dealing with Kelham and made us promise not to mention his name. I figured we could use the leverage at some point so I readily agreed though Garrus looked ready to shoot Bailey, too. It seemed that we might yet finish up this pair of personal errands in time for an early dinner, the way things were falling into place. We headed for the rendezvous in the Orbital Lounge while C-Sec rounded up our next appointment.

Garrus told us a little about what the Turian had done, betraying my friend's band of anti-mercenaries who had been performing vigilante services on Omega and generally infuriating the local bad guys. Sidonis had sent Garrus on a wild goose chase that kept him out of the way while mercs had slaughtered the entire rest of the crew. That rather had placed the mark of guilt on his head, though until that day Garrus had trusted the man implicitly. It was that incident that had transformed the former cop into Archangel, a lone gunman out for revenge, rather than a leader enjoying the camaraderie of like-minded outlaws. I completely understood his desire to blow Sidonis's head off of his body but I was curious what had led the guy to an act so stupid, knowing as he had how Garrus would feel about such treachery.

As no suspicion could be allowed to attach itself to his name, we set Garrus up on one of the catwalks that flanked many spaces around the Citadel and Thane and I went in to meet Sidonis. He looked terrible, exhausted and haunted, his mandibles drooping as though even the minor exertion of keeping them in place were too much for him. Though I knew Garrus was waiting to take the shot I blocked his line of sight and explained the situation. I wanted Garrus to know what had happened before the opportunity disappeared forever. Sidonis explained how he'd betrayed his friends to save his own life then asked me to move, to let Garrus settle the score. He told us that he lived as a dead man anyway, with those he'd handed over preying on his mind day and night, but that he wouldn't end his own life because he deserved to pay for what he'd done.

Garrus, sounding through the comm unit as furious as I'd ever heard him, said he wouldn't put the man out of his misery. I hoped that our renewed friendship was strong enough to withstand my meddling but I knew that not knowing the explanation would have eaten away at him for years. Even if it cost me my best friend I had to give him the answer he could not have gotten any other way. Maybe he'd come to forgive me over time. At least he wasn't thinking about me in the shower any more.

Thane and I rejoined Garrus by the cab, left idling nearby, and his scowl told me that it was not the time to discuss what had happened. I agreed that he could return to the ship and asked him to send Samara out to join us for the next bit of our mission to find Thane's son. My heart was heavy but I knew I'd done the right thing. Why did the right thing so often have to be hard as hell?


	5. Like Father, Not So Much Like Son

While we waited for Samara, Thane told me about his family life and admitted that he hadn't seen or talked to Kolyat in several years. Apparently, the assassinations he'd performed had aroused the ire of some psychos who made it their business to find his family. They'd taken it upon themselves to torture and kill his wife. When Thane had found out he'd gone a little nuts and exacted vengeance slowly and with great fury on each of those involved but that, by the time he'd finished, Kolyat had figured out that the whole thing was Thane's fault and would have nothing to do with him. About that time Thane had begun to feel the effects of Kepral's Syndrome and, understandably, had decided that it was some sort of divine retribution for the way he'd lived his life and failed his family. That had started the path that had led him to join my merry band of misfits and miscreants.

Samara passed regally through security, whispers about her occupation passing like wildfire as she swept past Bailey's empty desk. Garrus had thought to fill her in so that we didn't have to explain the whole situation. As I didn't want her to kill the guy we were interviewing I left her to chat with the C-Sec officers in the station about law enforcement while Thane and I played "good cop, bad cop" with Kelham. How it came to be that I ended up the bad cop in that game with a professional assassin acting the good guy more convincingly, I don't know. I decided not to think about what that said about my life or me.

Kelham folded like inferior armor, standing a few smacks upside the head and a short pistol-whipping during which Thane artfully appeared to be restraining me while getting in a lick or two of his own. The man could hardly wait to tell us that he'd ordered the hit on some anti-human politician named Talid who was in the midst of a campaign. Apparently Kelham thought the Turian's chances good enough that the assassination was worth the investment. He informed us that it cost less than a series of political ads and promised more-reliable results.

Handily, Talid was just finishing a little all-alien rally and we had a perfect opportunity to do some surveillance. Thane. Samara, and I headed off to the district where he glad-handed other Turians while we scoped out the catwalks above him. Thane assured me that the set-up was almost perfect for an assassin and I could see his point as we skulked, unseen, over their heads. Hell, I could chuck a few grenades down there and clear out half of the population before they knew what was happening—not that I would, of course. Unless they tried to kill me. Then all bets would be off.

We split up, scouting the walkways for any sign of Kolyat and following Talid's progress toward his own apartment. Finding nothing, Thane dropped to ground level and searched for his son while Samara and I kept watch from above. We clearly saw the politician send his krogan bodyguard into a store where he appeared to extort something from the shopkeeper. I saw Samara's blue flare from across the open court and had a hushed argument about whether her code required her to exact vengeance on a bad guy immediately or if she could wait until we weren't in the middle of a freaking covert operation. Thank heavens she conceded the point and didn't crush the lot of them right there in the market district.

Our three vantage points would have been perfect, had Kolyat bothered to show up along the route. It turned out that the sneaky boy had been hiding practically in plain sight, behind a pillar just outside Talid's apartment. Since we didn't know where that was we couldn't work back along the route and we simply missed the kid until he stepped out and shot the bodyguard in the head. The little shit was a pretty good shot, and I could hear some sneaky pride in Thane's voice as he sprinted the distance, hoping to prevent his boy from doing something even stupider. Of course, he was too late to stop Kolyat from hauling the politician into his own apartment by the scruff of his scaly neck. That would have been too easy.

And so Samara smashed down the door with her powerful biotics in the time it took me to slide down the nearest ladder. A bit of a crowd had gathered around the dead Krogan but no one made any move toward the jagged metal hole through which Thane had disappeared. I dove through it and slid to a halt as Samara slid her cat-suited suaveness into place behind me. I grabbed both of her hands and reminded her that, regardless of the fact that a man was holding a gun to the head of a bad person, she should not simply vaporize them both where they stood…or knelt, in Talid's case. Meanwhile, Thane and Kolyat were busy having the sort of awkward and yearning parent-child moment that reminded me how glad I was to be an orphan with no kids.

I finally got tired of listening to the pair of them and shot the gun out of Kolyat's hand. It was pretty simple, considering how little attention he was paying to anyone but his father. I had all of the time in the world to line up the shot but it was so unexpected to the three in the tableau that they looked at me like I'd shot the head off a mech from 400 yards, though I doubted Kolyat could see much with how hard he was crying. I smiled in a perky way, briskly rubbed my hands together, and opened my mouth to announce that it was time to leave when Bailey walked into the room. All I managed to say instead was, "Shit." Samara stood neutrally to my left, as though she were watching a dull vid, while Kolyat and Talid continued to stare at me, open-mouthed. Only Thane reacted, nodding solemnly and saying, "Indeed."

Bailey corralled everyone and had Talid and Kolyat hauled off to separate interview rooms. Thane, Samara, and I trailed him back to the station, I with my mind working furiously on how to get us out of this one. Personally, I would just as soon pack us off to the Normandy as soon as Bailey finished thanking us for preventing half of a crime but I knew that Thane wouldn't be worth a crap on my team if we didn't so something a little more proactive. Apparently the Sergeant had a bit of a soft spot for family drama and he tucked Thane into the interrogation room with his kid as soon as we returned. I decided to do what I could to help the boy and, in turn, myself.

Keeping in mind that Samara's strict code and close range required careful handling, I asked Bailey what would happen next. He started making noises about murder trials and rolling over on the guy who hired him but I cut him short by asking, "Samara, would you describe what we witnessed Talid and the Krogan doing while proceeding toward that apartment?" She did. I pointed out that some low-grade police work would surely uncover the sort of extortion and coercion that branded the nameless Krogan a bad guy and that Kolyat _could_ have been reacting to these actions. Counseling and a sort of "scared straight" program working with C-Sec might, I suggested with narrowed eyes, be better for _all_ involved. Happily, I didn't have to spell out my threat. Bailey appeared to consider what I'd said and nodded reluctantly. I knew he'd have to do some tap-dancing in the press but I had his own misdeeds to hold over his head. Clearly he'd rather get down for the cameras than go down for being crooked.

Bailey explained the idea to Thane when he emerged from his fraught session with Kolyat. When I asked Krios the senior how things had gone he replied only, "As well as can be expected," and returned in a sort of daze to the SR-2 with Samara. At least that spared me having to explain the situation.


	6. Ups and Downs

I spent a few minutes in the privacy of a nearby ladies' room rolling my eyes at the foibles of my team then headed for Admiral Hackett's office. With Thane and Garrus sitting on the Normandy with their respective missions accomplished, in my usual quasi-successful style, I was free to focus on more pleasant matters. I breezed into the admiral's office with a smile on my face and a spring in my step. It had been a ridiculously productive day and it wasn't even 1600 hours yet. My bouncy entry screeched to a halt when I saw what filled the room.

A bizarre, swooshy-looking thing took up half of the floor space and reached up to almost graze the ceiling. I presumed the wall was hinged because there was no way anyone had gotten that monstrosity through the door. Hackett grinned at me around its chrome. At the pinnacle was a shiny metal replica of the SR-1 about the size of my hand. I cocked my head to the left, one eyebrow raised, and asked, "Is this the best they could do?" Nowhere on the thing did the names of the dead, the still-deceased crew members much less my own, appear. It seemed a pretty sorry memorial to me. I only recognized the old Normandy because she'd been mine for a time. I imagined this silly thing sitting on a plain near some wreckage, shining dully under an alien sun, and my mood deflated a bit.

"It's _filled_ with sentiment and other good things," Hackett replied, dropping me a wink. It took a moment to understand what he was telling me. I'd spent too much time on my new ship, where a wink usually meant that the random person passing me in the corridor wanted to join the rotation of people with whom I spent time in closets and my shower. Then it clicked: something useful was hidden inside the statue. It must be pretty large to require a base the size of the one that held the frozen silver wave that I supposed was meant to represent the Normandy swooping through space.

I smiled again but I was still puzzled. "Why the hell is it in your office and not waiting to be loaded in my cargo bay?"

"I wanted to admire it a bit before you placed it on Alchera," he replied, as though it were the most reasonable thing in the world to order a ten-foot statue to be placed in one's office for an afternoon. I presumed that meant he had placed its contents himself. Or could it be…nah, it wasn't quite _that_ big. You couldn't fit a full- (and very nicely-) grown Alliance officer in the base, much as I wanted to indulge my most-optimistic fantasies. A Trojan monument this may be but the Alliance wouldn't be sneaking a living package onto the SR-2 with it. I wondered if the little Normandy was detachable. I needed something to put in that big glass case in my quarters.

"When you're done would you mind having it delivered?" I asked. "I don't think I can carry it myself." The admiral laughed in that gruff way I'd come to know so well. Just hearing it felt like coming home after so long chafing at TIM's snark. "Just don't get too…excited about it. I wouldn't want to have to steam clean it before I let it on my ship." His guffaw let me appreciate the freedom my Spectre status gave me outside the Alliance command structure. I'd never have dreamed of saying something so blunt to my commanding officer's commanding officer when I'd had one. I suppose he wasn't accustomed to having a subordinate get so cheeky with him, either. He didn't seem to mind in the least, now that I was outside of his chain of command. We waved a cheery goodbye and I wondered what would happen if I survived this so-called suicide mission. Could I go back to the lower end of the upper echelon after doing whatever the hell I wanted for so long? And if I were a Spectre still could I stand so much time away from Kaidan once the choice was mine to make?

_Bah_, I thought dismissively. I'd worry about all of that later. For the moment I had a secret compartment waiting to be explored and a possible rendezvous to verify. I certainly wouldn't consider my current life ideal but it definitely had its moments. I passed a store selling model ships and was brought up short at seeing the SR-1. I decided to blow a chunk of our money on it for Kaidan. I wasn't normally the type for giving or getting gifts outside of practical weapons and armor but then I'd never had a relationship quite like this one. The thought of his face when he got it tickled me.

The ship came with little action figures, according to the display, proving my old crew was not completely out of the spotlight even now. A wee Garrus stood next to a lumpy little Wrex and a few anonymous figures in Alliance blue loitered around the back of the ship where the open cargo doors revealed a scaled-down version of my beloved Mako rover. I stared at the tiny replicas of us and imagined Kaidan placing them in compromising positions in various places around the model. My giggles drew the attention of the salesperson, a bubbly Asari who hadn't immediately recognized me. She offered a substantial discount on the set in exchange for an endorsement of the store. A small portion of my dignity was worth the cash at this point so I recorded a blurb for her. It took several attempts, during which I cracked up at the absurdity of my name being used to sell toys to Citadel tourists, to get one with which she was satisfied. She promised to have the set wrapped and delivered as quickly as possible.

By the time I meandered down to the docking bay the monument had been loaded. I found Kelly dancing from foot to foot in the CIC awkwardly holding a large box. "Commander Shepard, your package came!" I sprayed laughter before I could stop myself. The yeoman gave a hesitant ha-ha, wanting to join in the joke but not sure what it was. She kept her huge eyes on my face, waiting for a cue or a clue. I wiped my eyes and thanked her as graciously as I could. She certainly wasn't going to get any hints. I took the box and started to the cargo bay, pinging Garrus along the way to join me. I wanted to see his reaction to the shiny thing we were intended to plant at the scene of my retracted death.

I met him at the door and we walked in together. "What the hell is that thing?" he asked when he caught sight of it. In the more-open expanse of the cargo area the statue appeared much smaller than it had in the admiral's office. "That, my dear Garrus, is a monument to the sacrifices of our friends and crewmates." He looked at me, frowning. "Clearly," I continued, "the actual ship was dwarfed by the whooshing it did." I snickered. The thing was so ridiculous that I couldn't help it. That tiny form could have been any ship and the curve of metal supporting it served no clear purpose. Garrus shook his head. "Humans," he murmured, displaying a disconcerting lack of a sense of humor. I suddenly remembered that it had been only that morning that he'd been so angry with me. Here I was, practically giddy, and we hadn't even talked about what had happened.

"Is there a restroom around here?" I asked. I hated to have such a personal conversation with the puppy's eyes and ears on us. He gestured to the right and we made our way into the little room. At least it wasn't another janitor's closet. I locked the door and had EDI stop broadcasting and recording. "Look," I started, "I'm sorry…"


	7. Put That Thing Away

"No," he interrupted me, "don't finish that sentence. If you try to justify what you did it will only piss me off again. I've been thinking about it all day: you were right. The satisfaction of shooting him would only have lasted for a moment." His face hardened into a fierceness that would have frightened even a krogan warlord. "I needed to know what happened. That he suffers every day and will keep suffering means that he can pay every second for what he did instead of being released." He placed a hand on my shoulder, the talons digging into my back as he gave me what I think was intended as a friendly squeeze. I laid a hand over his and we tentatively smiled at one another. Perhaps we'd be all right after all. Then his expression turned serious again. "But you don't get to make decisions for me like that, Shepard. I know you meant well but you're not my mother. Sometimes you have to let me make my own mistakes." Those talons were a bit less friendly now. Apparently he was still mad.

"I am sorry, Spike." I winced mentally but stood strong. I knew this was a critical moment. "But I need you at your best and it's my job to make sure you don't do something that will jeopardize our mission." I began to think I'd have holes to patch in the back of my shirt. "Best friend or no, you're on _my_ team again. Vigilante time is over. If I have to save you from yourself from time to time then that's what I will do." I spoke calmly, suddenly aware of just how damned big Turians are. They're no Krogans but Garrus could wipe me out in a heartbeat in this enclosed space, particularly as he already had a hold on me. I had a flash of déjà vu thinking of the moments after I'd woken Grunt. Why can't people just behave and stop testing me? I'm Shepard, damn it, savior of the galaxy. Can't I get a little respect?

Garrus started to growl a bit and stepped right up against me. Apparently I'd have to earn another dose of respect from him at any rate. I set my face in a "bite me" attitude and just looked up at him, pushing back a little. My bladder might be fighting to let go and my knees might be begging to tremble but I knew I had to make this point or we'd never get past this afternoon. We stood there for about three weeks, making heavy duty eye contact. Finally I shifted my face to a "Well?" look, sliding an eyebrow up and cocking my head a bit. I had to use the restroom in earnest by that point and my mind was starting to wander. For a moment nothing changed and then Garrus's eyes dropped and I knew I had won. It felt pretty crappy but it was better than losing him entirely. I imagined how disruptive a power struggle would be to a crew already supporting a pouty, deposed leader and a slew of lone-ranger mercenaries. There could only be one alpha dog and TIM had decreed it was me.

Garrus had been busy thinking, too, apparently about the fact that his blood was up and he was pressed tightly against me. He distracted me from my contemplation by backing me into the wall instead of backing off. I didn't know if this was some sort of dominance-inspired attraction or if it had just been far too long since he'd been this close to someone but I had to do something, and fast. He was growling still but now he sounded more like a jungle cat than an angry Turian. That had to be a bad sign. "So," I said loudly, "you don't like the monument either." I wasn't too familiar with Turian anatomy under those clothes but something was definitely stirring. My mind raced. "Big Al seems to have developed a sense of humor. I'm told we have to search it for goodies, too." A little mmm came from his throat. _Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap!_ I thought. _Think of something __**not**__ sexy!_ "Smartass must be ready to leave dock by now…" something was leaving dock but it wasn't the SR-2 "…unless he's got delivery on the package for me." Garrus lowered his head and was snuffling at my neck. I felt one of his mandibles scraping my throat. He seemed pretty eager to deliver something himself. _Damn it!_ "We should go check before The Torso or Twitchy comes looking for us." I was beginning to babble. _Something nasty_, I thought wildly, _something cold and unattractive_. "Do you remember that volus ambassador we met, the one that shared an office with the Elcor?" Garrus backed off a hair. "Oh, you weren't with us then." _What's less hot than an office full of Volus and Elcor?_ "Do you suppose Volus are as round as those environment suits make them look?" _Ew, naked Volus_. "Can you imagine trying to sleep in one of those things, or do you suppose they have special chambers in their quarters?" _Double ew: naked Volus in bed._

Garrus lifted his head and stepped back, blinking a little as if just waking. "I would hate to try sleeping in my armor," he said, sounding confused. His mandibles wobbled a bit as he recovered his equilibrium. I didn't dare move yet. "Did you say something about searching?"

"Apparently Big Al has hidden a surprise for us," I answered, ready to start talking about rotund little wheezing aliens again if need be. Garrus seemed to be coming out of his bloodlust trance. At least he had the good grace to look embarrassed. That wrecked patch on his cheek stood out deep blue and he seemed to be casting about for a neutral topic as well. He refused to look directly at me. I reminded myself never to stare him down in public, if this was the sort of reaction I would get. I took a deep breath and we turned our attention to the absurd monument. Garrus promised to find and remove any presents from Admiral Hackett while I checked in with Joker. Suddenly neither one of us could get out of that room fast enough. I decided to use a different restroom, even if I had to dance around the elevator on the way. The idea of dropping my pants in this one made me incredibly uncomfortable.

A pit stop relieved my aching bladder and gave me a moment to compose myself. I sidled up behind Joker, trying to sound casual. The heated moment in the cargo bay crapper had made me very impatient to see Kaidan. I was destined, however, for disappointment. Joker informed me that the package was on backorder and I'd have to wait until we returned from Alchera. The heavy sigh I completely failed to suppress rubbed my shirt against the raw spots on the back of my shoulder where Garrus had all but punctured me. My armor would be very uncomfortable unless I soon got some medi-gel on the spot. I okayed Joker to take off for Alchera and notified Garrus that we would set the monument with Joker and Dr. Chakwas as soon as we arrived. I thought it only fitting that those of use who'd been on the SR-1 go together, though we'd likely have to carry the pilot. He'd hate it but I knew it would mean a lot to him to see the old girl one last time. He'd been the only pilot ever to fly her and I knew she held a special place in his heart. Once we were underway I went to my quarters to check the messages Kelly assured me were waiting and to tend my wounds in what little privacy I could muster.


	8. Once Upon a Time

Hackett had promised Alchera to be a deserted, frozen wasteland but I wasn't taking any chances. We slapped armored environment suits and pistols on the doc and Joker and the four of us took the shuttle down to the surface with the monument on a hover cart. It was too bad such devices were notoriously unstable or we'd just have rigged up a chair for the pilot and let him fend for himself. As it was we constantly had to keep the silly thing from tipping the chromed wave onto its side as it passed over rocks and drifts. Joker had started out sitting on the base of the cart but after several close calls decided that he'd walk for a bit. Dr. Chakwas paced his slow progress, ready to spring into action should her favorite patient stumble. Even such a minor incident could result in a broken ankle, after all. It came to me that her leaving the Alliance might have less to do with me than with how needed Joker made her feel despite her claim to the contrary. Certainly no other patient would put up with Chakwas clucking over him like a broody hen, scolding and encouraging in turns.

Citing a desire for privacy in this solemn task, the four of us had left our comm units on-board. Everyone we saw as we made our way to the shuttle bay seemed respectful and sympathetic but I hadn't really expected to be much affected. I missed the SR-1 but my new one was so much better in most ways. I missed the crew I had trusted but the pillars of it were with me once again, one way or another. Life meant constant change and I had known that idyllic time of flitting about the galaxy with Kaidan in my bed and the Geth in my sights couldn't last. At the very least the Reaper threat would have interrupted our fun eventually and the longer they stayed away the less likely the Alliance would have been content to let us keep looking. Garrus, Joker, and I wanted to ditch our links to EDI so that we could talk freely. I wasn't too sure about Dr. Chakwas but Joker vouched for her. She may not have known exactly what was going on but she had been his friend and physician for over a decade and he literally trusted her with his life.

Alchera was almost entirely white and eerily silent, the only movement the snow stirred by a fitful wind. We came over the rise behind which we'd landed the shuttle and stared at the crash site spread before us. Huge pieces of the SR-1 were strewn about like abandoned toys. The four of us huddled together a bit and I was startled to discover tears in my eyes. Those months aboard the SSV Normandy had been the happiest of my life, fraught with danger though they may have been, and now I nominally worked for a man I suspected of having a hand in the attack in the first place. I doubted the intention had been to kill me outright but who knows what nefarious plans he'd had in mind at the time? And so many had died, beyond even my power to save, when the Collector ship had begun firing on us. I resolved to search the site thoroughly as the only way I could thank those left alone here so far from whatever homes they'd had. Hackett had given me a list of names and we would not leave until I'd found some indication of them all.

We placed the monument outside the ruined hulk of the bridge in the place where those who had died first would have sat had the ship not been sliced to bits. We shared a moment of silence and then Garrus announced that we needed to do something before we began our search. He popped open the secret compartment and removed a syringe of sorts. "The instructions say they want some of your blood, Commander." I shot him an exasperated look, wondering why we couldn't have done this in the shuttle while we were still under normal atmospheric pressure. This was going to hurt. It must be payback for my little exertion of authority in the cargo bay restroom. I broke the seal between my glove and sleeve. It would be worth it to have my blood tested by people I could trust. The icy cold arrowed into my flesh. The entire process took only seconds and the suit compensated as best it could but my entire body ached as the pressure dropped. I looked up and recalled the same pain that I'd felt at far higher magnitude so high above the thin atmosphere. I was relieved when Garrus signaled that he had finished and I could fix my glove. Nightmares about being unable to do so surely awaited me when next I slept.

Garrus returned the syringe to its hiding place and slid it closed. I realized he hadn't told me what, if anything, else had been in the base. I hadn't quite been avoiding him but I certainly hadn't sought him out during our journey here. With a start I remembered that I'd left the box with Kaidan's gift in it next to the monument, as well. I'd have to ask what had become of it. It hadn't shown up in my quarters. For the moment I simply made Joker as comfortable as I could in his old seat and took Dr. Chakwas and Garrus out to search for remains.

It took us hours to comb through the wreckage. No one remained intact or even identifiable after a trip through the atmosphere but we did find personal items or dog tags for the twenty missing crew members that we could send back to their families. I admit that I broke down—just a little, mind you—when we found Pressly's data pad. I remembered how human-centric he'd been on our flight to Eden Prime, an old-guard officer uneasy with allowing aliens aboard an Alliance vessel. He'd grown and changed so much as we'd worked with the other citizens of the galaxy that he'd actually thanked me for keeping him on the ship and changing his mind. Somehow I hadn't even thought to ask about him. I'd just assumed he was on some ship, navigating and generally living his life.

As we came to the tail end of the valley one last thing loomed over the scattered wreckage of our ship. I yelled to Garrus and ran over to what appeared to be my perfectly-intact Mako, sitting on a pile of rocks for all the world as though it were waiting for us to drive it up another sheer mountain range. I danced around it, a flurry of celebratory steps that washed away the melancholy of the day. "Can we take it with us?" I asked eagerly when Garrus finally joined me. It would never fit in the shuttle but perhaps there was a way to get it up to the SR-2 some other way. I patted the seemingly-indestructible flank. "Help me open it up! I want to see if she starts." I clambered up the side and made for the hatch.

Garrus laughed and raised his hands. "I'm never getting in that thing with you again, Shepard." He shook his head and backed away a few steps. "I've been flung off enough cliffs and bounced over one too many crevasses to trust your driving."

"It's just as well," I sighed from my perch. "It's frozen shut." I slid down the side as I had so many times to mark an ore deposit or investigate yet another mysterious Geth encampment. Nostalgia washed over me again as I remembered the dozens of trips Garrus, Kaidan, and I had made in the rover, fearless and joyful at being in one another's company. Wrex, Tali, and the rest had been friends, certainly, but we three had been companions and confidantes. The Mako had been fun not just because it's bouncy, balky controls had made driving even a smooth road an exercise in surprise but because it had been the place where our little team-within-a-team had traded hopes and fears, played jokes on one another, and turned into more than circumstance had made. I rubbed my hand across one of the lights, bidding it farewell. I knew we'd never get her off of Alchera, however perfect she looked sitting there. For me the Mako and the scars I still bore would be the true memorials to the SR-1, the things that stood for all the Collector's had taken from me. It was fitting that we leave her here.

Garrus came to stand beside me and we had another moment of silence, just the two of us. "I wish Kaidan were here to say goodbye," I said quietly. He nodded and I realized that I wasn't the only one missing my former lieutenant. He and Garrus had been close as well, if not in the same, physical way. Again I wondered what would happen should we all survive confronting the collectors. Could the three of us find a way to renew our intimacy or were those days gone forever?

Dr. Chakwas appeared next to Garrus. "How many concussions did I have to treat because of that thing?" she laughed, breaking the mood. "Forty-three," Garrus answered, deadpan, "and forty of them were mine." The three of us cracked up and my favorite Turian joined me in a sad little happy dance of remembrance. Chakwas gave us both a hug and we went back to the ruined bridge to fetch Joker. We hadn't talked much about Big Al, the puppy, or the rest of our complicated situation but for the moment none of us seemed too interested in intrigue and galactic politics. There was one thing I wanted to know, however. As we lifted off in the shuttle I asked, "Was there anything else from Big Al, Garrus?"

"Actually there was some paper and writing instruments," he answered, pausing for effect, "and a package with your name on it." I looked at him sideways. "I put it in the janitor's closet by the med bay." His eyes twinkled with mischief and I wondered how long he'd have kept that to himself.

"What did you do with the box I left by it?"

"I crossed out your name with one of our new tools, wrote 'The Package' on it, and put it where I'd found the first one. I figured I could use the practice. Those tiny pen things are hard to maneuver." I buried my head in my hands as the atmosphere of Alchera dwindled below us. There was no way I could play off turning the shuttle around to get Kaidan's present out of the base of the monument. I just hoped that whoever came to fetch the blood sample would see that it got to its intended recipient without opening it.


	9. Dead but Maybe Not Gone

While we'd been marking time and exploring various systems for resources with which to make the Normandy as strong as she could be, Jacob had been patiently testing and investigating...for weeks…the guns we'd picked up on the Collector ship. He was definitely thorough, though I suppose he didn't have much else to do. After we returned to the SR-2 he invited me to the armory to hear the results. Though it looked impressive, the sniper rifle simply couldn't outperform my Viper, the only gun I'd ever wanted to tuck into bed with me like a teddy bear. I love that thing. We played around in the shooting range for a while so that I could get a feel for how each of them handled. I asked Jacob to give the Collector sniper he'd named Widow to our resident widower, the Claymore shotgun to Grunt, and to keep the light machine gun for himself. I figured I could throw a dog a bone after all of his diligent (and probably quite enjoyable) work.

I headed for the CIC. Naturally Yeoman Chambers could not contain her enthusiasm over the state of my mail and implored me to open the messages at once. Where _did_ that girl get her energy? All of that wiggling and eyelash batting wore me out and I was just watching. I turned to my so-called private terminal and loaded my in-box. TIM had been busy while I'd been wallowing in nostalgia. He'd sent not only a message asking me to ride to Tali's rescue, again, but a note that he needed to talk to me. He hadn't contacted me since the Collector ship argument but it looked like he was back to business as usual: no useful details, no relevant analyses, no polite requests. Sending Joker a request to turn back toward The Citadel, making whatever stops Mordin still needed for raw materials along the way, I headed for the holo chamber to entangle myself with TIM's quantums once again.

As ever, TIM had been keeping secrets from me. It seems Cerberus had lost track of a team of scientists working on what my esteemed colleague chose to call a dead Reaper orbiting a brown dwarf in the Hawking Eta cluster. Instead of responding immediately to this little revelation I cast my mind back to any reports of mysterious disappearances in the Thorne system so that I could accuse him of having a hand in them. Unfortunately I couldn't think of any but the moments I took to cool down allowed me to avoid verbally decapitating the man. Had I been a cat I'd have been hissing the whole time. Luckily I could restrain myself a bit more than that, though it was a near thing. I hoped that my hair was long enough to hide my hackles, because those had definitely risen.

"A dead Reaper," I said as flatly as I could manage. "You've had a team on a Reaper for months and are somehow surprised that they've stopped reporting." _For what kind of moron do you take me, asshole?_ I thought. Either this was another set-up or we'd be heading into real danger this time. My old team had blown Sovereign to smithereens and I still wouldn't trust the debris to stay still in large piles. Now he wanted to send me and my team into a mind-controlling rogue AI the size of a large colony.

"Look, Shepard," he responded. "This didn't affect you until you were ready to head for the Omega-4 relay. The team has been gathering data on the Reapers and their technology. We lost communication with them but that's not why we're sending you there. You need the IFF from the Reaper to get activate the relay. _That's_ why I'm sending you now."

Another deep breath failed entirely to calm me. "Why the hell would you station people on a freaking Reaper, TIM? Did you completely miss the indoctrination part of my reports to the Alliance and the Council?" I shook my head. "Wasn't there an IFF on the Collector ship we could have gotten while we were already…freaking…there? Or did you suppose that ship just hid on this side of the relay and never went to their freaking base?" I heard my voice rising despite my best efforts. This was a signature Cerberus move and I couldn't believe I was surprised, but there it was. I reined myself in as best I could. "Never mind," I continued with a dismissive gesture, "it's not like I can change it now. Do you have anything more helpful to add, any useful information your now-cyborg-zombie team shared before their minds were turned against all life in the galaxy?" I shut my mouth abruptly, knowing how quickly sarcasm can seize a simple sentence and make it counterproductive. I really did need any information he had.

"We're going to need the technology on that ship to fight the Reapers, Shepard," TIM said, calm as ever though his mood star had shifted toward red. "Or have you forgotten that they're coming?"

I ground my teeth. "Just give me the damned data and coordinates, TIM." How could one person who barely knew me find every button and push them all so casually? He must lie awake at night thinking of ways to make me completely lose my cool. I wanted to stamp my feet and rant about his arrogance but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "We both know I'm going so cut the cute and let us get on with it."

The asshole's stupid star had faded to cool, confident blue by then. He chuckled contentedly and touched the screen on the arm of his chair. "Sent, Shepard. Good luck." Then he closed the connection. I immediately decided that we needed a TIM doll that I could dismember after conversations like that and a soundproof room in which to do so. It would be immensely satisfying to rip him limb from limb, stuffed version or not, screaming all the while. Barring that, I went straight to the shooting range and wasted a dozen clips blowing holes in a hologram of the man before I dared to speak to anyone else on the Normandy.

No sooner had I emerged from my therapy session than I ran into Jacob. He explained that he'd gotten a mysterious e-mail notifying him that the ship on which his father had disappeared ten years earlier had been found. Naturally, it weighed on his mind and he wondered if I might be willing to swing by and check it out for him. "Sure," I said, trying to sound far less grouchy and inconvenienced than I felt. "We'll work it in." He did look awfully distracted. I may not be his best friend but if he was going to do us any good in the long run I'd have to get this off his mind. I needed my weapons in tip-top shape and I suspected it would take more than my normal team of three to mop up an entire station, if that's what lay on the other side of the O-4 relay. It wasn't like the missing team in the derelict Reaper was going anywhere. "But we're still going to The Citadel first." I needed me some Kaidan.

Joker was normally pretty good about letting me know where we were but he hadn't interrupted me in more than two hours. He'd gotten adept and reading my moods and knowing when to stay out of the line of fire. Sure enough, hearing my tone with Jacob he decided it was time to give me a status update. "We're heading for the relay, Commander, and should be within sight of the Citadel by 0500 hours."

This cheered me immensely, as he must have known it would. I remembered Kaidan's box, hidden down in the cargo area, and decided that I'd done enough group business for one day. I headed for the mess area and began searching for the panel behind which Garrus said he'd hidden it. I snickered at the idea that I was hunting for Kaidan's package right out in the open, much as I'm sure my turian pal had intended, but I was aware of the people getting meals from Gardner behind me and tried to appear nonchalant. Finally one of the seams between the wall panels split beneath my fingers and I spied a box tucked in among the supplies. I did a tiny happy dance, unable to suppress my excitement entirely. Kaidan had never gotten a present for me before and I could hardly wait to see what it was. I pulled it out of the cubby and closed the door, smiling in anticipation. It wasn't until I turned around that I remembered the dozen or so crew milling around the mess. I do believe all of them were staring at me. I cleared my throat and straightened my face, trying to think of what I could possibly be so excited about finding in a janitor's closet. "Fabric softener," I said, and walked off to the elevator. Let them make of that what they would.


End file.
